


Communication for the better man

by ionia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, Superman (Comics)
Genre: First Time, Fortress of Solitude, M/M, Paris (City), Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionia/pseuds/ionia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Bruce work together outside of the Justice League, so they set up their own communication system. They talk, and Bruce leads Clark on a quest to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication for the better man

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Amélie last night, and all I could think of was "what if Bruce would mess with Clark like Amélie messes with Nino?" So this happened. I switched their parts in the haunted house scene, and left a whole lot out. Anyway, it doesn't matter if you haven't seen the movie, but still. Recommended. Amélie is one of the best movies ever.  
> I also drew inspiration from Superman Unchained #2, but it doesn't matter if you haven't read that either. No spoilers. So, universe is New 52.
> 
> This is my first fic ever, please be honest, but gentle. I'm not a native speaker of the English language.
> 
> Superman and Batman are owned by DC.

The Justice League had an excellent communication system , wired and maintained by Cyborg. But since Superman and Batman had started working together more and more, Bruce had manufactured a private line, one that wasn’t transmitted via Cyborg or any satellite he could hack into. This was their own little secret, and if they ever needed help (not likely), they would use the main comm link. Not long after they begun working together, Clark started calling Batman during the day, when he wasn’t Batman at all, but merely Bruce Wayne.

The first few times, Bruce ignored him or cut him off after it became clear there was no intergalactic emergency or Joker killing spree going on. However, Clark kept pushing, and after a month, Bruce gave in. They talked about everything and nothing; League business, WayneTech business, Planet business, but also their personal lives. Favourite food, music and movies were being discussed, necessary jokes about stupid villains or new league members were being made, they talked about their daily lives.

They told each other about their childhoods. So different, and yet so similar. Both orphan, Clark two times over, Bruce scarred for life when he was eight.

They understood each other like no one else.

One day, Bruce decided they should be able to see each other while they talked, so they installed an extra camera (one that Cyborg, once again, didn’t know of) in the cave, in Bruce’s study and his office at Wayne Enterprises. One in Clark’s apartment, but none at the daily planet, since he didn’t have any actual privacy there. And one in Superman’s fortress of solitude.

It was the first time Bruce was in the fortress, and he was amazed.

“How do you even hide a place like this?”

“I don’t, really. It hides itself. Besides, I don’t think anybody suspects Superman has a place like this. Do you want to drink something?”

Bruce slid back his cowl and ran a hand through his hair. “Some caffeine would be great, but I don’t suppose this place has a coffee machine?”

Clark disappeared and came back with two mugs, one black, and one with cream and lots of sugar. They sat in a place that could be called the fortress’s living room and drank in silence. Not awkward, but companionable. Clark finished his coffee and unclasped his cape, Bruce did the same, took off his gloves. Clark led him towards the main area, where the crystals were placed, and they got to work. When they were finished, Bruce called Alfred to test the visual connection. It worked.

“Thanks Bruce, really appreciate it,” Clark said with a pat on his shoulder. Bruce stiffened at the unexpected physical contact.

“I should go, the city needs me.”

“Don’t be silly Bruce, It’s the middle of the day, you won’t go out for another couple hours anyway.” Bruce looked at him silently. “Stay for dinner? I never have company here, gets pretty lonely sometimes,” Clark said with a cautious smile.

“It’s called the Fortress of _Solitude_.” He ended up staying anyway.

Clark cooked. Kryptonian food, the utensils were much like chopsticks. It was delicious, Bruce had to admit. They ate and talked, surrounded by the mystical lights of the fortress. It almost felt like a date.

Slowly, Clark had made his way into Bruce’s very personal and secluded life, and as soon as Bruce realized this, he didn’t speak to Clark for 2 weeks and didn’t answer his calls, except for League business. A few times, Superman asked Batman after meetings if he could speak with him privately, but Bruce always had an excuse ready. Clark was worried. He went to Gotham, landed next to Batman on a roof.  They talked for awhile, but Bruce wouldn’t say what bothered him. He even went to the cave, but Bruce was working and didn’t say a word.

Bruce didn’t want to talk to Clark, because he needed to think. The touch on his shoulder, that night in the fortress, had awoken something inside him. Something he didn’t really want to think about. He’d always admired Superman’s belief in good, laughed with Clark, and watched the alien’s body in silence. He liked the man as a whole, saw him as his friend, his best friend. The only man who knew every aspect of him, besides Alfred. He’d just never thought he’d actually _want_ Clark, until that fateful dinner not-quite-date.  In their two weeks of silence, Clark came to Gotham twice, even had the guts to show up uninvited in the cave, where a grumpy bat was at work. He hated that Clark could find him anywhere when he needed his privacy to think. Thus came the day that Bruce started working on a special suit, equipped to operate along the full electromagnetic spectrum. It’d sense what kind of vision Clark was using to find him and would react accordingly. It would also mask his heartbeat from Clark’s hearing. He even made a mask that would silent his breathing and speaking.

Another week went by without Bruce speaking to him. He still hadn’t figured out what bothered Bruce, and sometimes he couldn’t find him at all. But then, one day when he was working at his desk at the Daily Planet, he heard the signal of their personal comm link in his ear.

“Clark,” said in Batman’s rough voice.

“Bruce,” a surprised but hopeful answer.

“Do you have time?”

“Well, um, I just…” Clark muttered under his breath while he finished typing his article at super speed without anyone noticing. “Yes, I do have time,” He said when he’d reached the elevator.

“Good. Find me.”

“Is this a game, Bruce? You know I can find you anywhere.” Although he wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

“Not this time.”

“Okay, game on. Talk to me.”

“I bought a new car yesterday. How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Lois got herself in trouble and Perry yelled at me,” he said while tuning out the sound coming out of his comm link and trying to locate where on the planet Bruce’s voice was coming from.

“Paris.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re in Paris.”

“I might be.” This was weird. Bruce didn’t play games. Batman wasn’t supposed to play games. And what was he doing in Paris? To be more precise, the park of the Sacré-Coeur? Clark flew to Paris, all the while listening to Bruce’s voice. At least he was talking again. He landed in an alley and started walking from there. The sound was coming from a phone booth in the park, at the foot off the hill. According to a note on the booth, the phone was broken, but it clearly wasn’t. The phone was off the hook, and next to it lay Bruce’s transmitter. Somehow no one had noticed it. Bruce’s voice came from the phone, so he had to be somewhere else, calling this booth. Clark picked up the phone.

“Okay, what is going on Bruce? Why can’t I hear your real voice, or your heartbeat?”

“Everything at its time. Now that you’re here, go to the fairground.”

Deciding to play along with whatever crazy game this was, Clark obeyed.

“Clark.” He could hear Bruce’s real voice again, undeniable. It came from the haunted house.  However, he still couldn’t hear his heartbeat. Odd. He bought a ticket and took a seat in one of the karts.

Inside, it was dark and misty. It wasn’t scary, just a kids attraction and the mechanical skeletons and monsters moved stiffly. Except for one figure, stepping out on the tracks and climbing up on the back of his kart. Unmistakably Bruce. He was wearing a new suit, black, no cape, but he’d still added bat ears. Adorable fool.

Bruce sat crouched behind him, Clark couldn’t see him anymore. Neither of them said anything while the kart drove on. Then, Bruce reached out his hand, touched Clark’s neck, breathed in his ear. This was crazy! He could hear Bruce breathing now, but still no sign of a heartbeat, while his own drummed loudly through his ears. He leaned in to Bruce’s touch, now on his jaw. Bruce’s fingers were cautious, as if asking for permission. It felt weird, but so… _good_. Bruce’s mouth was next to his ear, he could _feel_ Bruce’s breath. Bruce groaned, low, soft and almost… primal. Then he disappeared, and once again, Clark couldn’t hear him. No voice, no breathing, no heartbeat.

Bruce had disappeared into the little control room from where he’d been calling the booth in the park. He slid the mouth mask back into place, contacted the Watchtower and requested to be teleported up. Once he was there, he immediately went to his quarters, which had sound proof walls. He decided to let the quest go on a little longer, so Clark would have some time to think.

Once outside, Clark was dazed, and sat down on a bench to think. However, he didn’t get a lot of time for that, because Bruce started talking again. The search led him to Athens, London, and, with a little detour to save a little girl from falling off a bridge, to Rome. In the air between the cities, Clark thought about Bruce and their relationship. Their friendship.

Bruce was the only man who knew every aspect of him. Who didn’t look down at Clark, or up at Superman, or scared at Kal-El. Who treated him as his equal. He loved talking to him, spending time with him. Although they didn’t really spend a lot of time physically in the same room, except for meetings or missions. That dinner at the fortress had been a first-timer, really. Then he remembered the pat on Bruce’s shoulder, how his heartbeat had spiked under his touch. At the time, he’d thought it was because he’d startled Bruce, or maybe even hit him a little bit too hard. Could there be more? He thought about his ride in the haunted house, about Bruce’s touch, how he definitely wanted to feel that again, to return it. Yes, there should be more.

Finally, his quest led him to the Watchtower. Now changed into his Superman suit, he stood in the main control room. He focused his hearing on Bruce’s breathing, because he thought he would be able to hear at least that while Bruce was wearing the suit. When he didn’t hear anything, he went up to Bruce’s quarters, reasoning that he had to be there.

His knock was answered quickly.

“Bruce.”

“Clark.”

Bruce, now without cowl, but still wearing the suit, stepped back to give Clark space to step into the room. He closed the door behind him. They stared at each other in silence for two heartbeats, only he still couldn’t hear Bruce’s. Oh, how much he would give right now to hear that. “Br--,” He began, but was cut off by Bruce’s fingers on his lips. The shorter man shook his head. Then he dropped his hand, leaned in and kissed Clark on the corner of his mouth, so light, but so expressive. Next, he kissed Clark’s neck, just below his ear, stroked his nose along his jaw. He looked at Clark again.

“I can’t hear your heartbeat,” it sounded desperate. Wanting.

Bruce pressed a button on his hip. The sound flooded Clark’s ears. It was so loud, he wanted to drown in it. He remembered how to move again, and leaned forward to kiss Bruce on the corner of his mouth, like he’d just done to him. Then he moved to his neck and kissed him there. He heard Bruce’s heartbeat quicken and smiled into his neck. When he pulled back, Bruce sighed.

“Bruce, what are we doing?”

“I believe I’m trying to woo you.” Clark smiled. “And, did I succeed?”

“Yes,” Clark sighed while he put his arms around the other man. “Yes.”

“Good, because if not, I would have made this suit for nothing.”

“Did you build this especially to get me to kiss you?”

“Maybe.”

Then he brought his mouth to Bruce’s, kissed him. Bruce invited him in, slid his arms around Clark’s neck. He gripped Bruce’s hips, but in the process he brushed across the button. The silence was deafening.

Bruce brought his mouth to the taller man’s ear.

“I suggest you better get me out of this damn thing as quick as you can.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna write a sequel to this.


End file.
